


The Evil in Men's Hearts

by AngelofAlderaan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blessings, Books, Evil, Gen, Politics, Right and Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 13:51:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofAlderaan/pseuds/AngelofAlderaan
Summary: "Happily ever afters aren't real.  But happiness, true happiness takes lots of work."  The demon took a long sip of wine.  "I never was a fan of blessings, I've seen the results."





	The Evil in Men's Hearts

**LONDON 1998**

Crowley wasn't Evil, Aziraphale had known this for a long time now. Of course he worked for the Other Side, but that didn't mean he was like the rest of that lot. He was thoughtful, he didn't particularly enjoy damning souls, but providing mischief and temptation were things he was particularly good at. He also understood that with the right nudging, humanity tended to do the damning all by themselves. He found that he got away with a lot by finding ways to generally annoy humanity. Often this backfired, to Aziraphale's amusement.

After millennia of working on Earth, the angel had come to know the demon very well, even had grown fond of him  _ because _ he was anything but evil. He had even noticed that Crowley had certain things he was rather soft for, such as children, and even his plants (which, although he yelled and threatened them, he always made sure Aziraphale was there to care for them when he had to work out of town.)

So when it was Aziraphale's turn to leave town for an assignment, naturally he asked Crowley to look after the bookshop. Not that it needed much, just to stop by to make sure no one had tried to break in. He had learned to trust Crowley, something that had taken many millennia to develop, and in turn the demon trusted him. Actually, Aziraphale suspected Crowley had placed faith in Aziraphale long before the angel learned to trust him, though he never understood why. Even before the Arrangement, Crowley often risked a lot just to spend time with him.

They met for a late lunch the day before he was to depart for Northern Ireland to discuss the trip, and to make sure Crowley knew what to do, should he need him. Polishing off his desert, the angel daintily wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it down. "I should be gone no more than a fortnight."

Crowley had been finished with his meal for quite some time now, but he politely waited on his friend to finish. "Why two weeks? I thought it was a simple blessing?"

"Well," the angel swallowed a sip of his tea. "Before I ever give a blessing, I like to get to know the person receiving it. Helps me know exactly how to bless, and if they are worthy of grace."

The demon cocked his head to the side in curiosity, "Angel, have ever once  _ not _ given a blessing you were told to deliver?"

A shade of pink spread across Aziraphale's cheeks, and he held the tea cup to hide his face. "Well, no. Not actually. But all the humans I have been sent to bless have needed it."

Crowley lounged back in his chair, limbs dangling lazily. "You know most humans are selfish right? One little temptation, one little suggestion, and it's all for themselves. Have you ever checked on those you blessed later to see if they  _ actually _ were worth it?"

No, the angel admitted to himself, he never had, but that course of thought was interrupted but another, "You never--"

Crowley held his hands up defensively, "Oh no, never! The humans have no problem doing that bit on their own!"

Sighing, Aziraphale set down the tea cup, "Point taken." Crowley was right, he probably should have checked in afterwards, but then again, what if the humans did muck it up afterwards, what could he have done? For one, he would have been wracked with guilt, that was certain. Perhaps not knowing was better.

"You see, angel, once a person has everything they ever wanted, there  _ is _ no happily ever after. Some become greedy, thinking they deserve anything they want, or they become depressed because they have nothing else to work towards. And some discover that what they have isn't want they really wanted. Happily ever afters aren't real. But happiness, true happiness takes lots of work." The demon took a long sip of wine. "I never was a fan of blessings, I've seen the results."

Reflexively, the angel shot back, "Well you would say that, you're a demon. Maybe some of them really  _ did _ deserve it."

"Given the choice between right and wrong, it's easier to do the wrong."

Aziraphale knew deep down Crowley wasn't mistaken here. It was why it was easier for the demon to do his job. Teaching humans to do right always took more time. But it was always fulfilling, because humans had such potential to do so many wonderful things. 

"So, North Ireland, huh? I haven't been there in centuries. Wish I could join you." Crowley muttered something under his breath, which the angel was fairly sure was him cursing a certain Irish patron saint.

  
  


*************

  
  


The salty sea breeze cut across Aziraphale's face, cold and sharp. He pulled his tartan scarf closer around his face and neck as the wind played with his white blonde hair. The angel leaned over the side of the ferry, watching the horizon as a small strip of land began to come into view. An overcast sky hung over him, and he knew a light rain would start soon. He was glad he worn his overcoat. The ominous weather was making him already miss his bookshop, wishing he was curled up with a cuppa and a book.

Within the half hour, they had arrived at the dock. He patiently waited until everyone else had disembarked, then picked up his worn suitcase and leather satchel filled with his favorite books to pass the evenings. At the end of the gangway, he spotted a man holding a sign reading FELL in large letters. This must be his ride he supposed. The man was tall, lanky, perhaps no older than his mid 20's, dressed in a neat white suit. The angel walked with purpose towards the young man, setting his suitcase down and putting a hand out to greet him. "Mr. Fell?" The young man's dark hair rustled under his white diver's cap.

"Yes, that's me. What is your name, dear boy?" The man shook the angel’s hand.

"Jonathan, Jonathan Reardon, sir." He spoke with a gentle Irish brogue. He bent down and picked up the worn luggage. "Allow me, sir. The car is this way. Mr. McInnas is waiting back at the manor."

  
  


***********

  
  


The ride was not long, as the manor was perched on the coast. He had read that it once was a fortress of an Irish lord who guarded the the territory from invaders. As they approached, he noted that the main house had definitely been updated many times over the centuries. He spotted several satellite dishes on different peaks. "Is this a family homestead?"

The young man glanced back to the ethereal being in the back seat. "I  _ think _ so, but only distantly. Mr. McInnas doesn't speak much about it." The angel nodded, but something wasn't setting right with him. He knew the man was well off, after all he was there under the guise of appraising the man's extensive book collection. But why would he need a blessing if he was  _ this _ wealthy?

The car pulled up to the main gate and it swung in on electric motors, state of the art. It slid smoothly in place behind them. They pulled up to the main house, the exterior white washed and gleaming. Jonathan exited the car and opened the back door for him. Aziraphale stepped out, looking up at the building impressively. Bag in hand, the driver ushered him towards two massive wood planked doors with large ornate black coated hinges. They swung open with little sound, revealing even more opulence. The main hall was filled with a warm glow from a huge chandelier, rustic but beautiful. The light gleamed off of several mirrors and not a few sets of antique armor, giving the space the illusion that it was even bigger than it was. The armor, Aziraphale noted, was definitely the real thing and not cheap reproductions he had seen in the past century and a half--humans nostalgic for a different time, romanticising an age without indoor plumbing, full of disease, and death in battle over minor offences.

His thoughts were broken by Jonathan's sing song voice. "Allow me to show you to your room, sir. Mr. McInnas will meet with you after you're settled in." Nodding, he followed the young man down wood paneled hallways, filled with art from different time periods. Some of it was quite valuable. The halls seem to twist in their own labyrinthine way, but Aziraphale made sure to take note of the path to his quarters. They stopped at a doorway, and Johnathan opened the large stained wood door. Inside, the luxury continued--a large four post canopy bed, deep damask drapes pulled back by thick silken cords with tassels. The bed was overfilled with pillows, and a thick comforter matched the color scheme of the room. A large wardrobe and mirror stood opposite the bed, flanking a large fireplace and mantle with a roaring fire. Two chairs and a modest sized table was set before the fireplace, with a lovely setting of flowers placed on it. The window was tall with victorian curves, and another set of drapes, which matched those on the bed.

"I'll come back and show you to Mr. McInnas in about twenty minutes, sir." He shut the door behind him, and the angel was left alone. And still confused.

Outside it had started raining, but the steady crackle of the fire was inviting. Aziraphale hung up his scarf and overcoat, unpacked what little else he brought in the wardrobe, and placed his prized books on the nightstand he discovered on the other side of the bed near the window. The angel looked out through the falling rain at the expanse of buildings and rolling hills. He wondered what sort of man Fraiser McInnas was. Perhaps he was lonely with all this wealth, if he had inherited it and was the last of his line. Or maybe he was depressed, and needed cheer. Surely a man who had so much and required a blessing was missing something in his life. 

Before long, a small knock sounded at the door, and Aziraphale crossed from where he had been looking out the window to open the door. "Mr. McInnas will see you in the drawing room now, sir." 

Aziraphale straightened his waist coat, and followed Jonathan down the hallways to the drawing room. This was another decadent chamber. Large velvet curtains hung on high windows, up to a vaulted ceiling. Huge paintings depicting dog hunts, mighty battles, and Christian themes filled each of the walls. A massive fireplace faced him from beyond the seating area, the fire crackingling invitingly. Standing by the fireplace was a tall man, his broad shoulders clothed in a smart, dark colored suit. He had reddish hair, more brown than Crowley's copper. This was brushed back with a volume that would have made David Hasseloff jealous. "Ah, Mr. Fell, welcome. I trust your trip was uneventful?" He was notably  _ not _ Irish in the slightest, having a proper upper class speaking voice.

He crossed the room and took the pincipality's hand. Aziraphale tried to read him, but he was having a hard time. Ever since that debaccule at the church with that double crossing Natzi women, he had been more careful when he met people. "Yes, thank you, Mr. McInnas."

"Oh, you can call me Frasier."

"Uh, Ezra." The angel returned. He still hadn't settled on this idea of human names like Crowley did, and he often forgot to use it. "You have quite the home here. Is this the family homestead?"

The man looked about the room appraisingly, "Ah yes, well, in a way. It belonged to a distant relative. When the time came for it to get passed down, let's just say I knew enough of the legal system to come into good fortune." So what, had he cheated others out of legitimate claims on the property? That was what it sounded like.

"Oh, I see." The angel nodded. Already, he was finding his first impressions not favorable. Perhaps there had been a muck up and the assignment? The man took a seat by the fire and indicated the angel do likewise. "What is it you do, Frasier? If I may ask."

The man looked away nonchalantly. "Oh I'm an solicitor, but I dabble here and there." Aziraphale wasn't satisfied by this vague answer, but he didn't press the matter and just nodded. "Tell me," Fraiser changed the subject, "How long have you worked with rare books? I must say, I was glad you were recommended to me to appraise my collection. I have had a rough time finding anyone willing to travel."

Now that the subject of the books came up, Aziraphale brightened, "Oh, it's my pleasure! Nice to get out of the shop every once in a while. I do enjoy looking at other people's collections!"

The man nodded. "I'm sure you'll be impressed by mine. Would you like to go see it now?"

Aziraphale grew quite excited but did his best to remain calm, "Yes, I'd love to, if it's not too much of a bother."

  
  


********

  
  


The library was bigger than he would have thought. It was a proper one, too, with ladders that slid on wheels to reach higher shelves. There was the same vaulted ceiling and deep velvet curtains as the drawing room, and another fireplace, this one even bigger but with a large metal grate in front of it to keep the old books protected. Two large plush wing chairs sat on either side of the fire, accompanied by end tables. This room was a bibliophile's dream. 

Aziraphale suppressed the urge to run over to the collection the moment they entered, and stayed by McInnas's side. "This is it," his voice was impassive. "Feel free to have a look around. I know you'll be in here for the next week or so, but if you're so inclined, you can look around now. I'm eager to know what the net value of all of this is."

While the man spoke, Aziraphale took him up on his invitation and started in on a nearby shelf. He almost missed this last part while he was reading spines. "Oh, why is that? Are you selling them?" He looked back from the shelves.

"No," the man shrugged and threw his hands in his pockets. "But it's nice to know the value of your property, especially when you run for public office. They like to have records of everything. I've had the rest of the house and antiquities appraised, this was the last on the list."

"Oh," Aziraphale, looked back at the books once more, "I see." He paused, considering. "You have a lovely collection. Do you come here often to read?"

The man gave a light laugh, "Honestly, no. These books came with the estate. I'm not much of a reader myself. I prefer the outdoors. Hey listen, ol' boy, if you just want to browse and get a lay of the land, you are welcome to. I have some business I need to get at in my office. Jonathan will come fetch you for dinner."

Aziraphale turned back, placing his hands behind him. "Oh, yes, I would hate to be a bother. Yes, I'll be quite fine here, thank you. I'll see you at dinner."

Clapping a hand on the angel's shoulder, the man grinned, "Sounds good, ol' chap." With that, the man left him to his own. Something about all of this didn't rub the angel right. The man clearly had more than he needed, he didn't seem unhappy in the slightest. He supposed he would watch him over the next few days and see what transpired. His last conversation with Crowley was still fresh in his mind.  _ Happiness, true happiness takes lots of work. _ McInnas didn't seem to have ever done a day's work in his life. He didn't seem unhappy either.

For the next few moments, he stared at the spines of the books, not paying a whole lot of attention to them, his mind tossing around the events of the day. Hopefully over the next few days he would get to know this man, and it would give Aziraphale more confidence in his assignment.

Something on one of the spines at eye level caught the angel's eye. It was a spine that was far older than the others that surrounded it, the leather binding worn and beginning to crack. He waved a hand over it, and the leather looked fresher. He didn't want to damage the old tome. Digging into his pant pockets, he pulled out two white cotton gloves, putting them on, and removed the volume carefully from the shelf. There was a long work table and chairs not far from where he stood, and he slowly paced over to it. He held the book in one hand and dug into his waistcoat pocket for a handkerchief. Laying the tartan cloth on the table, he placed the book on top. What had caught his initial attention wasn't just the age of the book, but the bit of gold on it. It was a celtic knotwork shaped in the form of a snake. The same design was repeated on the cover. 

Crowley had dragged Aziraphale over to his place earlier that year to see the movie The NeverEnding Story, thinking it would be something the bibliophile angel would enjoy. The story was unique in many ways, but he saw a lot of potential ideas that never got resolved. Crowley thoroughly enjoyed the film, but what he loved most was that the book held the image of two intertwined snakes biting each other’s tales in a light and dark motif. And that the hero wore the symbol. 

Aziraphale ended up buying a copy of the book afterwards in the original German and found the book to be far superior, and thoroughly enjoyed the themes it dealt with--very deep for a children's book.

Now the angel was staring at a book that really reminded him of the movie, and he was really wishing his friend was here to experience this moment. He opened the book ever so carefully, half expecting to see red on green text and something about an angel reading a book being referenced. Instead, the pages were covered in beautiful illuminations, the script all in Latin. The book was actually a gospel of Luke, each page covered in beautiful celtic knotwork with imagery of snakes. He found the section on the temptation of Christ, and was actually shocked to find the illumination of the "devil" tempting Christ depicted with fiery red hair, and looking nothing like the traditional depictions he was used to. He didn't resemble Crowley, but he was very handsome nonetheless.

Aziraphale wished dearly to take this book home now.

  
  


********

  
  


Frasier never meant for things to get this far, yet here he was, going down a path he had absolutely no control over. Things started simply enough--he came from a single parent home, no money to their name, and worked after school every day to help his mum make ends meet. He was a good student. However, he also learned to pay attention to other people, discovering dark secrets. This helped when it came time to apply for colleges and scholarships. Suddenly, he was the only one applying for them, students who had planned on applying suddenly changing their minds. 

He went to law school, passed the bar, found a prestigious firm, beating out other applicaints mysteriously. People at the firm found a lack of interest in trying to move up, or found another job. Before long was made a partner. 

The poor boy from the little village was doing well for himself, even was able to make his mother comfortable. He promised them both they would never be poor again. He looked back on his childhood, bitter that he didn’t have the same experiences many of his colleges would speak of--playing until the streetlights came on, swimming in the pond, getting ice cream with the other boys. He had his childhood stolen from him by a selfish man who never sent them a dime.

As time passed, he decided he would go into politics, thinking he could work to affect changes in government to ensure other children didn’t have to go through what he had. On paper, this sounded like a fantastic, but what Frasier was missing though was the positive, he  _ had _ learned how to work hard. He just couldn’t get past his bitterness and it had made him good at finding the weaknesses in others. 

He felt the world owed him for what he went through. When he discovered that some distant family property was under dispute with the estate, he swept in like a hawk, found the loopholes and became the new owner, over others who might have had a more immediate claim to it. His knack for finding skeletons on others closets helped him every time.

Now Frasier was sitting at his desk staring into the screen of his state of the art computer at a file. He gazed, hoping to find answers. This document had more skeletons then he had ever seen before. Information like this didn’t just ruin careers, it ruined lives. Sure, he had used knowledge of other’s discretions to get as far as he had, but this was taking things to a whole new level.

If he used this information, he could place himself exactly where he wanted. He could make real changes. He also could ruin a man’s life.

But Frasier could do so much good.

  
  


*********

  
  


“I’m afraid Mr. McInnas won’t be able to join you for dinner. Would you care to take it in your room, Mr. Fell?” Jonathan had come into the library an hour or so after Frasier had departed. The angel had been reading the ancient book this whole time. He knew the story, lived through most of it in fact, but it was the art and the way had been written that had captured his attention. The scribe felt like someone he knew intimately, and this fascinated him tremendously.

Looking up from his reverie, Aziraphale closed the book quickly in surprise. “Oh! Oh, yes, quite. Um, yes, that would be fine.”

The young man smiled graciously. “Very good sir, I’ll have it brought there right away.” He left the library, Aziraphale standing in response. He glanced down at the book, not sure quite what to do with it. Of course put it back, right? He placed both hands on the sides of the book and returned it to where he had found it. He headed back to the table, took his gloves off, and tucked them away in his pocket. Then he picked up the hankie, tucking it away, and pushed his chair back in. He turned back, gazing after the book. He knew it wasn’t going anywhere but for some reason he hated just leaving it here. He had to form a plan to get the book home. It didn’t belong here.

  
  


*******

Aziraphale enjoyed his dinner by the fire. Sitting in the wing chair was cozy, and after the maid came to remove the plates, she brought in a light desert and some wine. He tried reading, but he couldn’t get that book off his mind. So he indulged in the wine. Several glasses later, and the book wasn’t as big of a thought as it had been. However, he now had the sneaking suspicion he was being watched. He had been staring into the contents of the glass for sometime when finally a short clearing of a throat cut through the sound of the crackling fire. The angel slowly lowered his glass, just enough to see a grey clad silhouette on the other side of it. He tried to get his focus, but it took a moment or two. There was a face slowing coming into view, and it was frowning. Aziraphale blinked a few times, trying to will his eyes into submission. A fine suit, a high turtleneck…. Good lord, no.

The angel sat up as straight as his fuzzy feeling body would allow, and swiftly set the glass down. “Oh, heavens, Gabriel! I didn’t expect--”

“Yes, well, we wanted to check in. Have you given the blessing yet?”

Blessing...blessing...He was trying so hard to remember what that was all about. He felt like many little ducklings were snuggling into his brain. A nap sounded lovely--no he had to concentrate. “Oh yes, the blessing.” He wished he had known Gabriel had wanted to come by. “I only spoke to him a  _ weeee _ bit today. Need to get to know him...you know, um better. That’s right.” 

The archangel cocked his head at him a bit, raising a brow. “What is there to get to know? You do the job. That’s it.”

Swallowing hard, the principality tried to push aside the lovely fuzzy ducklings to think more clearly. “Yes, but you know, I always like to get to know the people I bless first. Helps with how I deliver it.”

Gabriel raised both eyebrows, not really convinced. “Alright then, but make it quick. This one is on a timetable. Heaven needs him. He’s going to affect some serious changes for us.”

“Yes, alright, jolly good.” He looked away, sheepishly.

Clapping a hand on the lesser angel’s shoulder, Gabriel gave a wide grin. “Great.”

Then he was suddenly alone again. Azriaphale needed another glass of wine after that. He downed what he had in the glass and poured another, the liquid sloshed over the side. This was going to be a long two weeks.

  
  


*********

Breakfast was taken in the dining room, though it was more like a dining hall, the long room could have fit three of Aziraphale’s book shops if it tried hard enough. This time Frasier joined Aziraphale. He was smiling, but to the angel, something seemed amiss. “Good morning, Ezra! I trust you slept well.”

Aziraphale, who had already started with tea, set his cup down. “Yes, thank you. The room was quite nice.” For once the angel had actually slept, but trying to escape the haze of both drink and his encounter with this superior. The bed had been soft, and he drifted off right away. In the morning he had a slight headache, which took but a moment to recover from. He would remind himself not to get drunk without Crowley around from now on. He could always judge when he had had too much when the demon started to stop making sense. Or was it to start? He guessed it depended on the topic of conversation.

“Excellent! I apologize for not joining you for dinner. You must think I’m a ruddy bad host, I’m sure!” The man took his seat opposite the angel and a servant brought in a hot plate with poached eggs and toast.

“Nonsense! I’m sure you had important work to attend to. I was fine. And please, don’t feel the need to entertain. I’m here to work. In fact, I will be starting straight after breakfast.” The servant brought out a second plate: crepes with fresh strawberries and creme. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. When he was asked what he wanted that morning for breakfast, he jokingly said crepes, but then had added in a more serious tone that anything they had was fine. He never suspected to be treated with his favourite! 

Frasier swallowed a morsel. “Wonderful. What did you think of the collection so far. Anything worth much?”

Thoughts of the incredible find swirled back into his head. “To be honest, I got caught up reading one of your volumes while I was in there, so I didn’t get an extensive look, but from what I can see so far, I think you will be pleased with the evaluation.”

“Oh excellent! I am thrilled. I knew I got the right man for the job.” The solicitor winked. It didn’t make Aziraphale feel comfortable.

*******

  
  


The proper way to evaluate things was to write down the title of each rare book, and a value next to it. Aziraphale had a few volumes with him which listed books and their price points. Each book he took off the shelf would be looked up in a price guide or two, the printing year and edition matched up, then a value assigned dependant on condition. Then the angel would write down the information in a ledger which he brought. He could find most of the books, and their values ranged widely. Many of the first editions rivaled his own. There were some books that were so rare or old that they were not listed. Those he set aside for last, when he would make a few phone calls to fellow dealers for their opinions. The Gospel with the snake on it was one of these.

Maybe he could ask for the book in compensation for his work? But what if McInnas said no? Well, he could always rehome it...he doubted the man would ever even notice it was missing, being that he had said he never read. And he didn’t seem to appreciate anything he had. 

No, that would be wrong. Crowley was rubbing off on him. 

But he couldn’t just leave it here.

He was so torn.

There were many other books here, many he didn’t even own that would be wonderful additions to his collection. However it was this singular book that stuck out to him.

Aziraphale needed a walk. His back was beginning to ache from leaning over the books for the past few days. He straightened his waistcoat and left the library. Hands behind his back, he strolled the halls, admiring the artwork as he went. He knew could have been an art appraiser as well, with his extensive knowledge of each era and many of the artists, having lived through them all and known many of the greats. There were several doors along the hall, all closed. All save one that was slightly ajar. A steady murmur of a voice drifted out from the other side. From what the angel could tell, it sounded like a phone conversation. He paused. It sounded like McInnas. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but something about the man hadn’t set right with him since he arrived, and he would be remiss if he didn’t settle how he was feeling before giving the blessing.

“Yes, I have proof right here. A whole file of it.---Yes, I can provide a hard copy.---Oh, I know, I was every bit as surprised as you are, but here we are.---Yes, well, when the press gets this, he will  _ have _ to drop out, there’s nothing else for it.---Oh no, they don’t have time before the election now, I think this is a sure win at this point.”

Pressing his back against the wall, Aziraphale took in a sharp breath. McInnas was playing the political game dirty. Well, this explained a lot of why the angel felt so uneasy. He certainly could  _ not  _ carry out his duty now. Or was he too late? What if he had been meant to deliver the blessing sooner so that the man could get into office without such an underhanded method? Perhaps a call to the head office would settle this for him. He made his way back to his room, opposite the way he had come to McInnas’s office.

When he arrived back at his quarters, he made sure to lock the door behind him. Drawing the curtains, he moved the furniture in front of them, as well as the door, for extra measures. Then he fished some chaulk out of his bag and set to work. After about ten minutes, the sigul was completed. Hum, no candles. He could miracle them into existence, but he was fairly certain this call would go right through. He said a quick prayer and sure enough, the circle lit right up.

“Yes, Aziraphale? Is it done?”

“Ah, Gabriel! Quick question for you. What was this blessing intended to do for Mr. McInnas? I usually figure out exactly how to deliver it on my own, but I must say, I’m jolly well stumped this time.” The principality laughed nervously. “He just seems to, um, have everything a human could need.”

“It’s all politics, Aziraphale. We need him to win this election.” The archangel’s voice filled the space. The lesser angel did wish somehow he could just turn down the volume, like he did when Crowley had it up too high in the Bently.

“Ah, yes, I see. Alright then.”

“Hurry it up, we need you back in London soon. Sounds like some demonic activity has been afoot while you have been away.” Clearly Crowley had got bored in his absence.

“Yes, right on it, Gabriel.” The circle abruptly blinked out. The angel made his way over to a chair by the window and flopped down on it. 

Well, from what he had overheard, the man clearly no longer needed the blessing. And if he was honest with himself, he was actually upset at the man. There were proper ways to get things done, and ruining another person’s life was not one of them. “Stupid man couldn’t wait a few more days.” He muttered to himself. 

The angel could have felt guilty for not delivering the blessing sooner, but overhearing the phone conversation and from the information he had gathered in his time at the manor, he had learned what kind of man Frasier McInnas was, and this kind of man played his own game to get where he wanted in life. And it disgusted him. He was glad he had waited. His thoughts went back to his last conversation with Crowley,  _ Given the choice between right and wrong, it's easier to do the wrong. _

Well, the man was getting what he wanted regardless now. And Aziraphale  _ still _ had to deliver some kind of blessing while he was here. Heaven would notice, this was high profile.

Waving a hand, the chalk dusted to nothing. He moved everything back in place and drew open the drapes once more. Something would come to him, he was sure of it. He knew he couldn’t deliver anything else to this man. He had made up his mind. McInnas had dug his grave, he can lie in it for all he cared. “Be sure your sin will find you out” he always said.

He headed back to the library. He would at least finish the other part of his job. And figure out a way to get that book home.

*******

Aziraphale decided to take dinner in his room that night. Afterwards, he returned to his work and kept at it all night. He couldn’t wait to leave this place. Around nine, there was a rap at the library door. The angel’s platinum blonde head shot up from his work. It was McInnas. “Burning the midnight oil?”

This was the last thing he needed, but Aziraphale had to pretend he had never heard a thing. He laughed a bit. “Yes, I’m getting close to being done, so I’ll have a figure for you by tomorrow, hopefully.” He stood as the man walked in, straightening his waistcoat and glancing down at his pocket watch for the time.

“That’s wonderful news. I’ll actually be leaving in the morning. Just got some news that my opponent has dropped out of the race. Looks like I’ve got the seat. So I have to head to London to sort some things out before the election day.” He laughed warmly. It felt like false joy. “Still have to let the people vote. Who knows, they might write in Mickey Mouse!”

The angel tried his best to fein amusement. “Yes, quite.”

“Anyway, you can leave the final figures with Jonathan when you’re done. He’ll make sure you’re paid, too.” He put out a hand to the angel. “I really appreciate all you’ve done.”

Paid--he forgot about that, he was too worried about the assignment. He didn’t  _ want _ this man’s money, to be honest, he was terrified of how he might have come by it, now. But there was-- “About that. Frasier, it has been simply a delight to even be allowed to view such a wonderful collection. Might I ask something?”

The man nodded, “What is it, ol’ boy?”

“In exchange for my services--you see you have been so generous in putting me up and your staff have been most hospitable, I would only as for one thing. May I select a book from your collection? Nothing more. I really cannot accept anything else.”

The man stroked his chin in thought. “You sure you won’t take payment?”

“I insist.” Aziaraphale spoke that firmer than he had intended, but somehow it sounded right in his ears. For once while he was here, he felt very confident about his decision.

A wide smile spread across Fraiser’s face. “Well, why not. You are a book lover after all. In fact, take a few. I won’t miss them, that’s for sure!” He clapped a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Thank you again, Erza.” He put out a hand once again. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Aziraphale took it, smiling now, feeling satisfied that he had found a solution. “The pleasure has been mine.”

  
  


********

  
  


It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to select the volumes he wanted. He didn’t pick out any other one of a kind books, though he wanted to. Instead he picked three others that were missing out of his collection and one book on plants, which he planned on keeping in the shop for Crowley, in case he stopped by and got bored. He miracled up a beautiful soft tartan cloth and wrapped it around the Gospel and tied it up nicely in some twine, then packed the books away gently in his leather satchel with the others he had brought.

He had finished his work that morning, having stayed up all night. He was eager to go home, and even more excited about his treasure. All his belongings were packed and ready. There was a knock at his door. “Come in!”

The tall young man who had been so kind to him, entered. He smiled gently at the angel. “Are you ready, Mr. Fell?”

“I am dear boy, except for one thing.”

“Oh, I can come back, if you like.” The man’s gentle accent almost sang.

Aziraphale tutted “No, no, that’s not what I mean. Dear boy, is there anything I can do for  _ you _ ?”

Jonathan was taken aback. The angel knew this was not something that he had been asked before while serving here. “Oh, sir. You--”

The principality held up a finger against his protest. “Tell me, is there anything that you  _ really  _ need.”

“Well, sir.” He paused thinking. “It’s just me right now, but I have been saving up for an engagement ring so I can ask my girl to marry me.”

Now this, this was a blessing. This he could get behind. Aziraphale dug into his pocket, and pulled out a wad of bills that didn’t exist until just this moment. He opened the man’s palm, and placed the folded stack into it, closing the young man’s fingers around it. He didn’t let go, placing both hands on Jonathan’s. “May God bless your marriage with much joy and happiness. May your days be rich, and full of laughter. May your days be long, and your children each be your legacy.”

There, his job was done. Heaven had its blessing. It might not have been the one that he was sent there to do, but it was the better one, he knew.

Jonathan’s eyes welled with tears. “I don’t know quite what to say, sir.”

The angel’s eyes shone. “Be happy.”

  
  


******

The bookshop door rang violently. Aziraphale had been back home for not even an hour, but somehow, the demon already knew he was back. “Angel! How was your trip?”

The principality was in the back of the shop reading the paper. Apparently a representative running for a parliamentary seat had dropped out of the race and a certain Frasier McInnas was now the lone candidate for the position. Of course this was no news to Aziraphale, but when he got back, the paper had been sitting on his desk with a note that read:  _ Great work, Aziraphale. Knew we could count on you. -G _

Joy. But the job was done. He set down the paper as the demon sprawled out on the couch. “Well, it wasn’t what I expected at all.”

“How’s that?”

“He was rich, didn’t need a thing, and the man thwarted me from even doing the blessing because he went and got the person who he was running against for office to drop out!”

The demon rolled with laughter. “So you never gave the blessing?”

“Now, I didn’t say that.”

“What did you do, bless his sneeze?”

Aziraphale stifled a smile. “No, not at all. I blessed one of his servants. Heaven got its blessing, and I didn’t have to bless someone who didn’t deserve it.”

A sly grin spread across Crowley’s face. “So you actually did it. I have to say I’m proud of you.”

“Nonsense, I delivered a blessing. It was just to a person far more deserving. And it if you must know, the boy wanted to get married. I simply blessed it.”

“Oh, angel, you  _ were _ listening to me!” A big lopsided grin filled Crowley’s face. Aziraphale blushed. “So what happened with the head office? What did they say?”

“‘Well done.’ They have no idea what kind of man this Frasier McInnas is. Ruining people’s lives. I can’t believe they want him in parliament.” The angel huffed, standing up and fetching his bag of books that he had not yet unpacked. “However, the man has no love for great literature, and I waived my fee in exchange for some new additions to the shop.”

He sat back down and rummaged around in the bag. “It figures you would. Something rare you couldn’t pass up on?”

“Something like that.” The angel came up from the bag with the tartan wrapped book.

Crowley furrowed his brows, “What’s that?”

The angel handed the book to his friend, smiling warmly. “I couldn’t leave without this. I tried to come up with every which way to bring it back for you short of simply stealing it, though mind you, I felt horrible even considering that as an option. Because it was  _ not _ .”

Slowly, the demon untied the twine, and unfolded the fabric. The beautiful celtic snake gleamed up at him. Yellow eyes flicked up at the angel from above the frames of his sunglasses. “Did you get this because of that movie?”

“Hardly!” Aziraphale laughed warmly. “No, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Look inside. It’s--”

“The Gospel of Luke.” The demon cut him off.

Aziraphale was taken aback. “Yes, how--”

The demon was very gently flipping through the pages until he came to the illumination of the temptation in the wilderness. “I was there when this was written.” He ran a hand over the image. “I was friends with the scribe. He was one of the few humans to figure what I was and not be frightened. He used me as inspiration for this.” He looked down almost reverently at the page. “Their lives are so short, angel. It’s why we try not to get too attached to them. But sometimes--sometimes you can’t help it when you are lonely.” He looked back up at the angel, quickly pushing up his sunglasses to hide his snake eyes. Aziraphale had already caught how wet they looked. “Thank you, Aziraphale. You have no idea what this means to me.”

The angel felt his heart grow full, and his face flush a bit. “I am so glad, Crowley.” He patted his legs. “Now, I got a report of demonic activity in this area while I was gone that I need to thwart.”

Laughing, the demon grinned widely. “Yeah, well, when you’re not here I get bored.”

The angel felt his cheeks warm again. “It’s nice to be missed.” 


End file.
